What Came Before
by WeasleyAdr
Summary: After the war ends, everyone must move on and live the lives they fought for.HP/GW, RW/HG. Rated 'M' to be safe. The Harry Potter characters and universe were created by the genius who is JK Rowling. It's her world, I just have fun skipping around in it
1. Chapter 1

1

Exhaustion

Hermione watched as the Weasley family huddled together in the Great Hall, a mass of red hair and freckles. Percy and Charlie flanked George, whose face was hidden. Ron stood with one long arm wrapped tightly around Ginny, his face masked with dirt and blood, and streaked with sweat. The sight of Mrs. Weasley nearly broke her heart. She was no longer crying, however the expression she wore was one of complete heartbreak. Mr. Weasley's face was an unreadable mask, as though shell- shocked. Bill held tightly to his mother and Fleur, his heavily scarred face pale and ghostly. Hermione wondered if they would ever really recover.

Deciding to give them time to grieve alone, Hermione turned and walked in the direction of the hospital wing. Harry, she knew, had retired to bed, but Hermione was sure she would not be able to sleep. Not until she had a chance to speak to Ron alone. Not until she had touched him to reassure herself that he had, indeed, made it through this alive. Rather than wait listlessly for him to return to the Gryffindor Common Room, Hermione decided to make herself useful and offer to help in any way she could.

When she arrived in the Hospital Wing, she found it nearly bursting with patients. Madam Pomfrey was desperately trying to separate those who she could treat on site, and those who needed to be taken immediately to St. Mungo's.

Hermione rolled up the sleeves of her tattered jumper, and began to help.

"Don't worry, it's just a little gash. I think I can set you to rights." Hermione soothed a blond-haired Ravenclaw. She pulled a large bottle of dittany from a nearby shelf and poured a small amount onto the bleeding wound. Within moments it was stretched over with new flesh, looking days old.

She moved from person to person, able to help some, and determining others were beyond her skills to help. She came to a young woman with black hair kneeling on the ground. Hermione felt as though she had been punched in the stomach when Parvati Patil looked up at her, her faced streaked with tears, Lavender Brown a bloody mess at her feet.

"Greyback." She said simply, motioning to the unconscious Lavender. Hermione noticed Parvati holding a bloody rag against Lavender's right thigh.

"How bad is it?" Hermione asked, indicating the wound.

"I can't let go of it or it gushes blood. She keeps getting more pale." Parvati seemed dazed, and Hermione sensed that she too was in shock.

"We have to get her to St. Mungo's right away," Hermione said, noting that Lavender was indeed a ghostly white. "Whatever you do Parvati, do not let go of her leg." Hermione performed a simple levitation charm and escorted the duo to Madam Pomfrey's office where a small line of injured were waiting to utilize her fireplace. Hermione noted that Hannah Abbot was unconscious and being supported by a fellow Hufflepuff. Michael Corner, Ginny's ex, was conscious, but was also being supported by a friend. He too, appeared to be in shock, and was gingerly holding his left arm, which was nearly severed at the elbow.

After nearly two hours of sorting and caring for the injured, Madam Pomfrey ordered Hermione out of the Hospital Wing and off to bed. Hermione left, her feet leading her to Gryffindor Tower on their own accord. In her mind's eye she saw the faces off all of those she knew were dead. Then, worst of all, she saw Hagrid holding Harry's lifeless body. She heard the anguished screams that had echoed over the grounds, loud and terrible. She still was not sure which had been hers, and which had been Ron's and Ginny's. Hermione found suddenly that her knees had turned to jelly, and she sank heavily to the ground. She pulled her legs to her chest and began to rock, fighting the waves of nausea that were washing over her. The fear, sorrow, uncertainty, relief, and utter exhaustion of the last year seemed to have caught up with her at that moment, and Hermione feared that she might black out.

"Hermione? Are you alright?"

She looked up into the grey-blue eyes of Seamus Finnigan, and had never been so happy in her life to see him. She opened her mouth to assure him that she would be all right, but to her absolute horror a sob escaped instead. After a year of constant fighting, Hermione could fight no longer, and she gave herself over completely to the tears.

"Don't cry now, don't cry." She heard him say as she was pulled in by strong waves of hysteria. She felt his hands clumsily pat her back, as she cried until she gagged. She was not sure how much time had passed until her sobs had subsided to silent tears.

"Sorry," she said finally, swiping at her swollen eyes and attempting to stand.

"Don't be," Seamus said, helping to pull her to her feet. "I was about to have a good cry me self before I realized this hall was taken." Hermione laughed, still feeling on the edge of hysterics. "Come on, I'll walk with you to Gryffindor."

"Have you seen Ron?" Hermione asked, as they began to navigate the familiar stairs.

"Not since they moved Fred. Awful, that. Doesn't seem real." Seamus shook his head, and Hermione noticed several deep scratches on the side of his neck.

"Have you seen Madam Pomfrey about those?"

"Nah. They're not bad. She had enough to be getting on with." Seamus touched his scratches gingerly. They walked in silence for a few moments, each lost in their own thoughts. "Dean may have lost his eyes," Seamus finally spoke, his jaw tight. "Took a curse right in the face. He's gone to St. Mungo's. I'm only nipping to Gryffindor to get changed before I go fetch his Mum. I didn't want to show up to get her like…well like this."

Hermione took Seamus in completely for the first time. In addition to the scratches on his neck, he was also covered in a copious amount of blood, his pants torn and his t-shirt singed.

"You do look a sight," Hermione said, surprised that she could still joke. "But then, I'm sure we all do."

"We've reason to," Seamus nodded, coming to a stop in front of the Fat Lady. "But for the record, you look good to me."

Hermione stood for a moment, her exhausted mind unable to process what Seamus had said. Her heart fell when she saw that the Common Room was completely abandoned, not even a fire burned in the grate.

"Seamus," she called, as he began to climb the stairs.

"Yeah?" He said, appearing once again at the bottom of the boy's staircase.

"If Ron is up there, will you let him know that I'm looking for him?"

"Sure," Seamus turned and began to climb once again.

"Seamus!" Hermione called again.

"Yeah?" He said, appearing once again at the bottom of the stairs.

"Unless he's sleeping. Don't wake him, then." She bit her lip. "Will you just let me know if he's up there sleeping?"

"Sure, no problem."

Twenty minutes later Seamus reappeared in the Common Room sporting clean clothes and a slightly cleaner face.

"Weasley wasn't in his bed. Harry's sleeping though. Out like a light."

"Good," Hermione nodded. "He really needed a rest."

"Looks like he's not the only one," Seamus said as Hermione stifled a yawn. "When's the last time you got some shut-eye?"

"I…I don't remember." Hermione shook her head, her mind refusing to work properly. "Before Gringotts I think."

"So it's true then?" Seamus asked, his face reflecting shock. "You lot really broke into Gringotts?"

Hermione only nodded, all of her thoughts focused on Ron and not falling asleep. At that moment the Portrait Hole opened and Neville climbed through, Ginny at his heels.

"Ginnny!" Hermione cried, not knowing why she was once again fighting back tears. Ginny didn't seem to mind as she rushed to Hermione and threw her arms around her in a tight embrace.

"It's over," Ginny whispered against Hermione's hair. "It's really over."

Hermione found that she could not speak, and simply nodded. Finally the girls released each other, both laughing lightly.

"I have so much to tell you about the last year," Hermione said, thinking about her very recent kiss with Ron. "Later," she added, remembering that they were not alone.

"I've got to go," Seamus announced, making his way to the portrait hole. He stopped for a moment and gripped Neville's shoulder. "You did Gryffindor proud today, Longbottom. I always knew you had it in you."

Neville only nodded, his face flooding with color.

"I was scared," Neville admitted to Ginny and Hermione after Seamus had left. "When he put the Sorting Hat on me." He shook his head, his face quickly losing the color that had stained it only moments before.

"Of course you were," Ginny said kindly. "That's what made it so brave. That's why you're a hero."

Neville hung his head and began nervously scuffing his shoe against the stone floor. "Don't say that, Gin." When he looked up his eyes shone with unshed tears. "I'm not a hero. Fred. He's the hero."

Ginny opened her mouth to speak, but seemed unable to find the right words. After a moment she simply gave Neville a watery smile that he returned before fleeing to the sanctuary of the boys' dormitory.

"I'm exhausted," Ginny announced after Neville had gone. "Is Harry asleep?"

"Yes," Hermione answered, her eyes on the still portrait hole.

"Ron should be here soon," Ginny said as if reading Hermione's thoughts. "He was helping Charlie and Bill." Ginny closed her eyes for a moment, and when she opened them they shone feverishly. "They left about an hour and half ago. They were going to try and get Fred home to the Burrow. Mum wants him buried in the family cemetery."

"Ginny, I-" Hermione began, but Ginny shook her head wildly.

"I know, Hermione. I…I just can't talk about it any more tonight. I'm going to go and try to get some sleep."

Hermione watched her climb the steps of the girls' dormitory with an aching heart. Every thing had changed. In the span of one night, they were living in a new world.

There was so much to be done. Hermione's mind reeled with it all. Hogwarts would have to be repaired. The Ministry as well. And that God-awful statue had to be torn down.

Then there was the matter of her parents. Thinking of them was enough to send Hermione into a fresh spasm of tears. As much as she loved the Weasleys', and as much as she knew they loved her, at that moment all she wanted was her own Mum and Dad. She would have to make arrangements to get to Australia as soon as possible.

"You're still awake?" Hermione jumped three feet in the air, completely startled out of her reverie.

"Ron!" Hermione's hand flew to her heart, which was beating wildly.

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you." He made his way over to the sofa and sank heavily into it, closing his eyes. "Why haven't you gone to bed? I can't remember the last time we slept."

"I was waiting for you," Hermione said, her eyes gliding over his profile.

"I was…" He didn't seem to know what to say.

"I know," Hermione assured him. "Ginny told me." She took his hand which was crusted over with blood in some spots and filthy in general. Ron opened his eyes and surveyed her carefully.

"You look like hell," he said finally, the corners of his mouth twitching slightly.

"Oh? And you look like a million galleons?" Hermione tossed back, glad that he had it in him to joke.

"It's strange," He said, staring out the window at the sun-drenched grounds.

"What's strange?" Hermione asked, following his gaze outside.

"It's sunny out. It doesn't seem like it should be. With all that's happened, it ought to be raining." The eyes he turned on her were dry but brimming with sorrow. "I always knew there was a big chance, you know. I didn't know it would be Fred specifically, but I knew it could be one of us. There's just so many of us, and well, we're the biggest blood traitors around." Ron gripped Hermione's hand, his jaw clenched painfully tight. "I don't want to go to a funeral for one of my own brothers."

With that Ron's face crumpled, tears streaming from the corners of his eyes. Hermione pulled him to her, and he gratefully wrapped his long arms around her waist, hiding his face in her lap. As his body convulsed with quiet sobs Hermione rested her face on his back and cried along with him. After some time the storm seemed to pass, and Ron sat up looking somewhat embarrassed.

"You need some sleep," Hermione said, before he could apologize.

"Hark who's talking," he replied, his hand touching her face bashfully. Hermione reveled in the touch, and felt her face grow warm.

"Ron-" she began, but was quickly cut off.

"We should really get to bed," Ron said, standing abruptly. "I reckon I could sleep for a week."

"Alright," Hermione agreed reluctantly. "See you in a few hours then."

"Hermione!" Ron called as she began to make her way up the stairs.

"What?"

"There are still Death Eaters on the loose. Maybe you should sleep in the boys' dormitory with Harry and me. It's not a good idea to be on your own."

"Don't worry, Ron, Ginny's up here too, remember? We'll be fine."

"Yeah. Right."

Hermione watched Ron disappear up the stairs before she turned and headed for her own bed. She had never felt more completely exhausted, and each step presented a personal challenge. She paused momentarily and wondered how uncomfortable it would be to sleep on the steps.

At long last she made it to her bed, and collapsed onto it gratefully. She shuttered for a fraction of a moment as she observed how dirty her hands appeared against the crisp white sheets, and then she was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

2

Spoken Aloud

Harry opened his eyes and immediately sat up, his hearting pounding in his ears. It took him a moment to remember that he was in his own bed in Gryffindor Tower, that the final battle had been fought, and that Voldemort was dead. Harry's stomach fell. Fred. Remus. Tonks. Colin. They were all dead as well. So were many others.

A riot of emotions fought for dominance within him, and Harry was seized with a sudden desire to go back to sleep. Then he thought of Ginny, and of all the months that he had gone without her and knew that he had to find her straight away.

Rolling out of bed turned out to be more difficult than he would have guessed. Every muscle cried out in protest, his chest especially sensitive. He lifted his tattered t-shirt to find a deep purplish- blue welt where the killing curse had touched him.

"You should see Madam Pomfrey."

Harry jumped to his feet and pulled his wand, so much time living on edge dictating his actions.

"Ginny." She stood before him; her face was pale and there were deep circles beneath her eyes. Harry thought she had never looked more beautiful. He tossed his wand onto his bed, never taking his eyes off of her.

"I thought you were dead," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. Harry opened his mouth to speak, but found he didn't know what to say. "Harry…" Ginny covered her face with her hands, and doubled over in silent sobs. Harry had never felt more useless. As he watched her, his own eyes began to burn with unshed tears.

"Ginny," he said, wrapping his arms firmly around her and blinking hard. She buried her face in his neck, her hands clutching the front of his shirt.

"I…I…" but whatever she was Harry would never know. She choked on another sob and was unable to continue. Harry didn't know what to say, so he said nothing at all. Instead, he sank to the floor, pulling Ginny down into his lap. He held her as close as he could get her as she continued to weep. He thought of all the danger they had faced in the last twenty-four hours and knew that having Ginny warm and whole in his arms was nothing short of a miracle. Even in the face of all the death and loss, Harry found himself incredibly grateful.

He was not sure how much time had passed when Ginny finally hiccupped herself into silence. Slowly she sat up and raised wet, brown eyes to him.

"I love you." Her voice was no longer a whisper, but strong and sure. Harry felt a rush of heat erupt in his heart and spread throughout his body. Of all the things he had expected her to say that was not one of them. No one had ever spoken those words to him in his memory. He knew that Ron and Hermione loved him; they had certainly proven that over the years, yet the sentiment had remained unspoken. To hear the words spoken aloud from Ginny caused a much stronger reaction in Harry than he ever could have prepared himself for. He crushed her to his chest once again, burying his face in her neck. He felt himself trembling and knew it had nothing whatsoever to do with his aching muscles.

"Ginny, I-"

"Don't!" Ginny cut him off urgently. "Please. I didn't say it just to hear you say it back." She looked close to tears once again, and in her eyes was a raw vulnerability. He was sure his eyes reflected the same.

"When I was in the forest, and I knew that I was about to die…Ginny, you were the last thought I had. Before I was hit with the Killing Curse…I…I saw your face. I love you too, Ginny."

She stared at him for several moments before her face broke into a radiant smile. Harry smiled back, suddenly feeling as though he could wrestle a troll. Ginny loved him. She loved him.

Ginny sobered quickly. "The Killing Curse? Harry, did you survive another? What happened out there?"

"It's a long story," Harry warned, stretching out his legs and pulling Ginny against him once again.

Ginny turned and kissed him softly on the lips. "For once, Harry, we have all the time in the world."


	3. Chapter 3

3

To Fred

George squinted his eyes against the mid-morning sun. The day was exceptionally beautiful. A gentle breeze rustled through full green branches, and an endless blue sky stretched overhead.

George had never felt more detached.

Somewhere in front of him, he knew that Lee Jordan was giving Fred the eulogy he deserved, but his words were lost on George. All of his attention was focused on the simple black casket that now housed his twin's body. He wondered fleetingly if his mother had chosen to bury Fred in his favorite dragon-hide jacket. He wondered if Katie Bell would ever know that George had fancied her. He wondered if Fred's latest idea of Floating Fancies would be successful. He wondered.

George felt a sharp throb take up residence in the base of his skull. Thoughts of Fred bombarded his mind, even while he slept. He felt something building inside of him, thick and white-hot. Logically, George knew that he should fight it. Logically, he knew that he should find a bottle of Firewhiskey Ultra and have it all out. But he couldn't. In his heart, George knew he was being a coward…but he didn't care. Rather than surrendering to the sorrow, George grasped at his anger.

Fred would never get to kiss Katie Bell. He would never get to marry or be a father. He would never watch another Quidditch World Cup. All that he could have been, a lifetime of experiences, had been snatched away in a single moment. His twin, who was good, and loyal, and courageous, was dead. It wasn't fair, and George was livid.

"George."

The voice reached him as though through a thick fog.

"Come on," Bill said, grasping George's shoulder. He bent so that their faces were on the same level, concern showing through his gnarled features. "Just us blokes." Bill took George's arm and hauled him to his feet. With his arm wrapped firmly around his shoulders, Bill marched them straight up to the casket.

George looked down at the polished wood, not sure what he was supposed to do. Suddenly he felt a warm presence on his left. Percy had joined them, and he too wrapped an arm around George's shoulders. Charlie and Ron came next, and when he would not come on his own, Charlie forcibly hauled Harry to join them. The six young men stood for a moment; arms wrapped around each other's shoulders, and huddled together in their grief.

"We have to do something," Charlie said, staring at the place he imagined Fred's face to be. "Something to memorialize Fred for ourselves."

"Yeah. A sodding plaque in the Ministry of Magic isn't…Fred." Bill shook his head looking sidelong at George. "We need something that Fred would have approved of. What do you think, George?"

He knew that he would eventually be asked what he thought Fred would have wanted; yet George still was not prepared for it. He tried to think; tried to imagine what Fred would have found to be an appropriate memorial. The more he searched, however, the more lost he felt.

George pulled at the collar of his dress robes, feeling trapped.

"What about a tattoo?"

The suggestion came from Percy, which was enough to stun George out of his wild impulse to flee. It was perfect; just the kind of thing that Fred would have been first in line for.

"Bloody hell, Perce," George felt a real smile pulling at his mouth. "If I hadn't watched you say that, I never would have believed that idea came from you."

"It's brilliant," Ron added enthusiastically.

Percy smiled weakly and shrugged. For the first time since the final battle, George really studied Percy. His eyes, like the rest of them, were locked on the coffin as though unable to fully accept it as Fred's final resting place. He gripped George's shoulders firmly, and with a jolt George realized that that it was not to offer support, but rather to draw it. Percy, George realized, was barely holding it together.

"It _is_ brilliant," George said softly.

The guys squeezed in tighter from all sides, lost in their own private world of grief. They would do all they could to memorialize their lost brother, and they would certainly never forget. Still, they all knew that things would never quite be the same.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"When are you leaving?"

Ginny pulled her knees to her chest and rested her chin on them. Hermione shifted comfortably, cuddling Crookshanks to her.

After Fred's funeral the Weasley boys and Harry had mysteriously run off to Hogsmeade, offering only the flimsy excuse of having a "blokes night" in Fred's honor. Ginny and Hermione now sat on Ginny's bed, an open bag of crisps between them, each working through their second Butterbeer.

"Monday. I have about twelve different apparation points. I never realized wizarding travel was so complicated. It's going to take two days to get there." Hermione chewed her lip for a moment. "I haven't told Ron or Harry."

"They're going to want to go with you," Ginny said. Her eyes were still swollen from crying all day.

"I…I have to do this alone. It's a little selfish, really. I want to have my mum and dad to myself for a bit."

"What are you going to tell them?"

"The truth. I've never lied to them about anything. They knew all about Harry and Voldemort, and all the trouble we had been in. Fifth year came as a nasty shock." Hermione laughed, recalling her mother's horrified face. "They wanted to have a look at other wizarding schools in Europe. They thought I would be safer."

"Then they thought right, didn't they?" Ginny laughed ironically.

"Yeah, but they knew it was useless. They knew I would never give up Hogwarts, and I certainly wasn't going to give up Ron and Harry."

"Will they be angry?"

"Yes," Hermione felt her stomach flip at the thought. "They're going to be beyond angry. I've closed their practice, boarded up their home, and made them disappear without so much as a 'take care' to their friends."

"It was the right thing to do, Hermione," Ginny said gently. "He would have killed them too, and Merlin knows we don't need any more reasons to mourn."

"You're right," Hermione nodded, her heart clenching at the thought of her parents dead. "What do you think the boys are getting up to?" She asked, trying to push her anxiety aside.

"I'll bet you five galleons that they come home completely pissed and crying about how much they love each other."

"Thanks," Hermione laughed. "But I don't think I'll be taking you up on that."

"You know, you never did tell me about what happened…between you and Ron?"

"Oh." Hermione felt her face grow warm, and couldn't help but smile giddily.

"Oh gross," Ginny said, rolling her eyes. "I can't believe _Ron_ can make you smile like that."

"It's taken us forever to get here." Hermione scratched Crookshank's ears thoughtfully. "And I'm still not even sure where 'here' is."

"He adores you, Hermione. Everyone knows it."

"Yes, everyone but him apparently." Hermione's smile grew wider. "Although he didn't seem to mind very much when I kissed him."

"You didn't?!" Ginny cried, utterly shocked. When Hermione only nodded, Ginny laughed out loud. "Hermione, you total scarlet woman!"

"It was horrible timing, right in front of Harry, and we both hadn't showered in days. But Ginny, it was…perfect."

"I knew you would snap one day and either snog him or kill him." Ginny giggled, and Hermione was delighted to see her so animated. "What did he do?"

"He kissed me back," Hermione wondered momentarily if her face could get any warmer.

"You'll be married in a year."

"Ginny!"

"Then you'll get busy having children. A girl and a boy."

"We're only seventeen! Are you mad?" Ginny waved away Hermione's objections.

"You and Ron will come round to Harry's and my place every Friday, and Ron will offend us all by chewing with his mouth open. You will become the youngest ever Minister of Magic and give all the House Elves clothes, and Ron will be a stay-at-home dad."

"Yours and Harry's place, huh?"

Ginny smiled, and in it was something that made Hermione believe that she had a secret of her own.

"What is it, Gin?"

"Harry told me he loved me." Ginny closed her eyes, reliving the moment. Somehow telling Hermione made it more real.

"Wow," Hermione said softly. "Ginny that's wonderful. I knew that…well…the two of you…it just makes sense."

"I've loved him since I was a little girl. There were times I never thought we would get here…when I thought he might never feel the same."

"Yet here you are."

"Yes, and it's even better than I dreamed."

"Girls?" Mrs. Weasley called. "Your father and I are off to bed," she said, stepping into the room. She grabbed Ginny up in a hug and held her tightly. After several moments she released Ginny and repeated the action with Hermione. "I'm very proud of you both," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "You…this…You've made us very proud. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Mum."

"Goodnight, Mrs. Weasley."

After Mrs. Weasley had left, Ginny turned to Hermione, thoughtfulness written across every feature.

"Did you ever think my mum…well…with Bellatrix?"

"No," Hermione answered immediately. "Not in a million years. I…I wanted to kill her myself, Ginny. Really."

"Me too," Ginny said softly, feeling the anger boil inside of her once more. "I was terrified when they started to duel. I had never seen her duel anyone. I was certain…I thought..."

"She was amazing," Hermione said, remembering the snarl Mrs. Weasley had worn.

"Why did we just assume she wouldn't be good? Just because she decided to say home and raise us lot, rather than run out and be an auror?"

"Her job was harder than being an auror," Hermione laughed.

"And twice as dangerous," Ginny agreed. "What with Fred and George around. I remember when I was four; Fred got hold of Dad's wand and set the Burrow on fire. The sitting room wall had to be replaced."

"No!" Hermione laughed.

"Yes," Ginny smiled. "He said he was trying to make sparklers. First step towards those fireworks if you ask me."

"I will never forget the look on Umbridge's face that day," said Hermione dreamily. "She deserved it all, the old toad."

The girls spent the next several hours swapping memories of Fred, and soon the nostalgia spread to include Remus, Tonks, and even Colin. Both Hermione and Ginny where doubled over in laughter, remembering a well-executed prank Tonks had helped them carry out on Harry and Ron. Suddenly loud voices suddenly drifted up from downstairs.

"They're back," Ginny said, wiping a tear from her eye.

"I mean it, Harry," the girls heard Charlie slur as they neared the kitchen. "You're the best friend this family ever had!"

"I'm glad I didn't take your bet," Hermione whispered to Ginny. Charlie stood, his arm slung around Harry's shoulders, both young men swaying on the spot.

"No, you guys are the best." Harry swung his arm in a wide arc, attempting to encompass all of them in what he was saying. His eyes landed on Ginny and Hermione, and he suddenly looked weepy.

"Ginny! Hermione!" He choked, staggering over to them. "Ginny, you're so beautiful. No one is more beautiful that you," he said, pulling her to him and kissing her forehead.

"You're not sober," Ginny said, although she was smiling and looked quite pleased.

"I love you so much," Harry continued, as though she hadn't said anything. "I really love you."

He wrapped Hermione in a bear hug next, and kissed the top of her head. "Hermione, you're like a sister to me. I don't know where I would be without you." He continued to sway ominously, and he leaned heavily on her for support. "Wait! I do know where I'd be. I'd be dead." His eyes scanned the faces around him, until they fell on Ron. Once again, he seemed on the verge of tears.

"Ron! Ron, get your arse over here," he said hoarsely. Ron stumbled over, smiling goofily, his eyes fixed on Hermione.

"You guys are my best friends," Harry said, wrapping his loose arm around Ron's shoulders. "I don't know where I'd be without you guys."

"You'd be dead, you sod!" Ron said, but he too was weepy. "I love you guys," he cried, and both Ron and Harry pulled together, sealing Hermione in an impromptu group hug.

"I love you guys too!" Bill stumbled forward, holding a bottle that Hermione did not recognize.

"You're all bloody wonderful," George cried, holding onto Percy who was also clutching a strange bottle.

"Look what we've done!" George said suddenly, pulling away from Percy so quickly that he tumbled to the floor.

"Wanker," Percy called as Bill hauled him clumsily to his feet.

George pushed up the sleeve of his robe to revel a swollen tattoo.

"You didn't?!" Ginny cried, covering her mouth. "You all got the same thing?"

The guys grinned, each pushing up the sleeve of their robes past their biceps, reveling identical tattoos.

"Is that a…?" Hermione trailed off, squinting at Ron's arm.

"A Hogwarts toilet seat, yeah," George wheezed, doubling over with laughter.

"Classy," Ginny said, smiling at the tattoo on Harry's arm. It was, quite clearly, a toilet seat. Just along the outside edge were the letters "FW" and the years 1978-1998.

Bill staggered out of the kitchen for a moment, and when he returned he carried eight glasses, into which he divided the contents of his bottle.

"Everyone take one," he commanded. "You two as well," he said, indicating Hermione and Ginny.

After everyone was holding a glass, Bill raised his own.

"To Fred," he cried. "The best sodding brother we could have asked for."

"To Fred!"


	4. Chapter 4

4

Maybe I Am, Maybe I'm Not

AN: Thank you to all who have given me such great encouragement! This chapter is a tad on the short side, but hopefully I will be able to update again soon.

* * *

"Still don't know why we can't go with you," Ron grumbled Sunday night, as everyone sat around the dinner table.

"We've talked about it, Ron." Hermione sighed as she accepted another serving of bangers and mash. Ever since the final battle, Ron noticed that Hermione ate with a veracious appetite. He couldn't blame her really, after a year of near starvation. He personally planned to never be more than five minutes away from a good fry-up again.

"It's not safe," Ron couldn't help but object once again. "You know there are still-"

"Ron," Hermione interrupted, closing her eyes. "Kingsley has arranged security for me. It's not what I wanted, but I accepted for you…and Harry. I will be _fine_!"

"If Harry and I were going with you, you wouldn't need bloody security." Ron glared at Hermione. "You're…wasting tax money!"

"Ron, for crying out loud! Hermione hasn't seen her parents in a flippin' year!"

Ginny shoved her plate away, her face flushed angrily. "Explaining everything is going to be hard enough without you there to cop it up more!"

Ron felt his blood boil. How dare she? She would have something to say if it was Harry's who was about to traipse across the world alone. He opened his mouth, ready to have it out.

"Stop," Mrs. Weasley said wearily, causing Ron's mouth to snap shut. "Ron, Hermione is a big girl and more than capable of taking care of herself. Plus she's right. What she's done will take a lot of explaining, and she does owe her parents a couple of days of her undivided attention. If you care about her, then be fair."

Ron scanned the table, unable to believer that no one was on his side. It wasn't as though he didn't want her to go. He just wanted her to be safe.

"Sod this," he growled, pushing away from the table. He stormed through the kitchen door, and into the twilight, his blood pounding in his ears. He walked to the kissing gate and kicked it open, stomping down the narrow dirt lane.

"Fucking Bellatrix Lestrange," He said, spitting into the dirt. Every night she haunted his sleep. After all that had happened, Ron did not dream of losing Fred, of Harry's lifeless body, or of their narrow escape from the Ministry of Magic. Every night, Ron returned to Malfoy Manor and listened to Hermione's tortured screams. It was not a dream he could get use to. The details stayed relatively similar, and yet Ron always woke soaked in sweat and tears. The feeling of helplessness was the worst. Hermione was being violently assaulted only feet from where he was yet he couldn't help her.

He could never let it happen again.

"Ron."

Ron gripped his wand and spun around, _Sectusempra_ on the tip of his tongue.

"Bugger, Hermione! I nearly cursed you!"

"I though you might want some company," she said softly.

Ron bit his tongue down on an angry retort, and opted for a neutral shrug instead.

"It's not as though I don't want you to go, you know," Hermione said, standing next to him and gazing west, where a thin strip of sky still glowed grey-blue. Ron glanced sidelong at her, and found that he couldn't pull his eyes away. Her hair was as unruly as ever, and she was still painfully thin, but there was something about her that compelled him.

"You're lovely, Hermione," he blurted, his face immediately burning up. She turned to him, her wide eyes reflecting the starlight.

"Ron, I'm not-"

"You are," he insisted, wondering how she couldn't know. "Really."

"Thank you," Hermione nearly whispered. "Ron, we haven't really had a chance to talk."

"Talk," Ron felt his heart rate pick up. "We talk everyday."

"Honestly, are you being thick on purpose?"

"No," Ron ran a hand through his newly cut hair. "I just…bloody hell, Hermione, you know I'm not good at this."

"Truer words were never spoken," Hermione muttered, rolling her eyes. "Look, if things keep going on like this, I'm going to lose the plot!"

Ron felt something devilish come alive inside of him. Despite a wild desire to smile, he kept his face completely neutral, staring at Hermione in apparent confusion.

"You _know_ what I'm talking about, Ron!" Hermione all but hissed, her face flushed scarlet.

"Yeah...I think I do," He shoved his hands in his pockets and turned to fully face her in the moonlight. "I was going to bring it up myself, but I thought I should let you."

"Well, we can't just keep skirting the issue. If I learned anything, it's that we shouldn't wait to say how we feel because we might not be given another chance."

"You're right. One of us just needs to come out and say it, so I guess I will." Ron took a deep breath, fighting a mad desire to laugh. "Hermione, I think you're madly in love with me."

Ron wished they had done this in the light of day so he could see her face clearly. As it was, he saw her mouth open and close several times without successfully forming a single word. When the silence stretched past the two-minute mark, Ron began to doubt his judgment. Maybe this hadn't been the thing to joke about.

"Hermione, I-"

He was not given a chance to finish his apology. Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck, pushing herself against him firmly. Standing on tiptoes, she kissed him squarely on the mouth. He stood for a moment, feeling the heat pulse through his body. When he attempted to return the kiss, however, Hermione pulled away abruptly.

"Maybe I am, maybe I'm not," she said saucily.

Ron felt god smacked. "Hermione, I-"

"Goodnight, Ron," she said, cutting him off once again. With that, she turned and all but skipped back to the house.

"Bugger me," Ron said softly, a smile spreading across his face. He turned back to the yard, gazing up at the newly risen full moon. She was mad. Completely and utterly mad. And Ron loved her.


	5. Chapter 5

5

Explanations

Hermione wiped her sweaty palms on her cotton t-shirt, and looked once more at Ian, who made up one-half of her "security detail". With a trembling finger Hermione gripped the doorknocker, and tapped firmly three times. After several moments that felt like an eternity, the door was pulled open, and Hermione was face to face with her mother

"May…may I help you?" She asked, looking at Hermione with a slightly bemused expression.

"I hope so," Hermione said, studying her mother's face hungrily. "I'm hopelessly lost, you see. I'm part of a university tour group, and I've been separated. Might I use your telephone?"

"Of course," Mrs. Granger said, stepping aside and allowing Hermione entrance. "Have we met," she asked, studying Hermione's face closely. "I feel as though I know you."

"I don't think so," Hermione said, her heart clenching.

"How odd," said Mrs. Granger, seeming almost mesmerized by Hermione. "There's something about your eyes…"

Hermione couldn't take it another moment. In one fluid motion she pulled her wand and waved it intricately, pointing it at her mother's head.

"Recordatio restituo," cried Hermione, with all the concentration she could master. For a moment, her mother's eyes seemed to cloud over, but when they cleared it was Jane Granger, not Monica Wilkins, who looked out at Hermione.

"Hermione?" she asked, her brow creased in confusion. "What…" she looked around her. "Where are we?"

"Mum." Hermione embraced her mother and felt something in her heart settle peacefully into place. Behind her eyes the pressure was building, but she swallowed her tears. She still had to restore her father.

"Dearest, what's happened?" Jane Granger asked, holding Hermione at arms length and studying her face. "Where are we, and where's your father?"

"I promise I will explain everything, Mum." Hermione assured, as she pulled her mother to her once again. "I…I'm just so happy to see you."

"Monica, where are my Chaucers'?" Hugo Granger asked as he entered the room. "Oh, hello," he greeted Hermione cheerfully, wearing the same bemused expression that his wife had moments before. "I'm having the darndest feeling of déjà vu."

"Monica? Hugo why-"

"Recordatio restituo!" Hermione shrilled once again, this time directing her wandwork at her father. His hair was slightly more gray than it had been, and he was tanned far darker than she had ever seen him, but Hermione was relieved the see that her father was still wonderfully himself.

"Dad." Hermione said, stepping into his arms and holding on tightly.

"Bear?" He said, kissing the top of her head. "Are you alright?" He too, took inventory of where they were, and looked over Hermione's head at his wife, searching for some sort of clue. Her eyes were narrowed on the back of their daughter, and Hugo had known his wife long enough to know that she was puzzling something out.

"What exactly is going on, Hermione?" Jane demanded, albeit gently. Hermione sighed, the joy of having her parents restored to her temporarily pushed back by the task of explaining everything to them.

"We should sit," Hermione said, taking the armchair that was flanked by another armchair and a blue settee. After her parents were seated on either side of her, Hermione took a deep, calming breath, and decided to be frank.

"Voldemort's dead."

"Well…that's…"

"Bloody wonderful," Hugo finished for his wife. "I will sleep much more soundly now, but bear, what's that to do with us being here? And where is here?"

"You're in Perth, Australia. I moved you hear last summer, just after I returned from school." Hermione said this all in a great rush, feeling extremely warm.

"You moved us here?" Jane asked, her eyebrows raised and her mouth set.

"Please forgive me," whispered Hermione, knowing the worst was yet to be told. "I just had to be sure that you would be safe."

"From Voldemort?" Jane asked. Hermione forced her head to move up and down. "I see."

"Well I bloody well don't!" said Hugo, frustration showing on his face.

"Hermione enchanted us, dear," Jane explained patiently. "How long have we been here, Hermione?"

"A year." Hermione bit her lip, and willed the tears back for just a few more minutes. She turned to her father, whose face was still scrunched in concentration.

"I bewitched you to believe that you were Wendell and Monica Wilkins," she explained softly. "I closed you practice, and shut-up the house."

Hermione longed for them to shout, because the silence was far worse.

"And what have you been getting up to for the last year?" Jane asked in a voice much too calm.

"I was with Harry and Ron. We didn't return for our final year at Hogwarts. We spent the year hunting horcruxes."

"Horcruxes?" Hugo rested his head in his hands, his face hidden from Hermione's view.

"Powerfully dark magical objects. Voldemort had hidden parts of his soul in them. We had to find and destroy all of them before he could be killed."

Once again the silence nearly made Hermione scream. She was certain they could hear her heart pounding in the stillness.

"I take it this…this quest was dangerous?" asked Jane, reaching out a finger and gently tracing the still pink scar on Hermione's throat.

Hermione only nodded miserably.

"Harry and Ron?" Jane asked, and Hermione did not miss the fear that had stolen into her voice.

"They're both fine, Mum," Hermione assured her.

"Ginny as well?" Hugo added, remembering how fondly Hermione had spoken of her.

"Yes. Only…only not everyone came out alright."

"Who?"

"Fred Weasley," Hermione felt her chin begin to tremble. "Remus and Tonks Lupin."

"Remus and Tonks?!" Hugo asked in shocked. Hermione remembered that they had met them both at King's Cross Station after fifth year.

"And more," Hermione continued as the panic and terror of the second battle came back to her. She wiped her eyes on the back of her hand, attempting to pull it together.

"How awful," said Jane after another stretch of silence. "Poor Molly and Arthur. To lose a child…" Hermione watched her mother's eyes fill with tears. "Why did you do this Hermione? Surely there was another way."

It was the moment Hermione had been waiting for. She had to have the chance to defend herself. She had to make them understand.

"I had to protect you," she said, hating that she could not turn off her tears. "Voldemort was trying to annihilate muggle borns, and there I was, best friend to his arch enemy and actively trying to stop him."

"It's our job to protect you, not the other way around," Hugo bit, his face flushing with his anger. "You should have at least given us a choice in the matter!"

"Please," Hermione beseeched desperately. "You have to understand. It's not a decision that I made lightly. I agonized and had nightmares. Everyone I loved was up for grabs, and I could do nothing to protect them. Everyone but you. I knew that I could protect you, I knew that I could ensure that someone I loved made it through this, and so I did. It was selfish, I know…but the two of you were the only ones I had the power to shield. I just couldn't walk away knowing what would become of you if I didn't."

"You have to also understand, Hermione," Jane said, her voice trembling as much as her daughter's. "That what you did was deceitful. Witch or not, you are our daughter, and we trusted you. You betrayed that trust by enchanting us without or knowledge or consent."

Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but Jane held up a silencing hand.

"No," she whispered. "Let me speak. When you received your Hogwarts letter, it was the answer to a lot of questions. Your father and I had always known you were special, but on that day we realized just how much. I hope you appreciate how hard it was to let you go to a school that we had never seen, to be taught by teachers we had never met, and be part of a world that we could never fully understand."

Hermione nodded, she had always known that they had taken an extraordinary leap of faith.

"Every time you came home for holiday, you were more confident, more self-assured, and more happy than we had ever seen you before." Jane brought a trembling hand to her mouth in her own attempt to staunch her tears. "Your father and I were sure that we had made the right decision allowing you to attend Hogwarts to hone your gift. Then last summer you came home, and Dumbledore was dead. Still, even through that terrible trial, you were able to come into your own a little more. We had sent a half-grown child off to school, and a woman had returned in her place."

"Mum-"

"But regardless of how grown you had become, or how self-possessed, or how brilliant, you were still our child and we still had the right, the _primal right_ to protect you, or at the very least, worry about you."

"What would have happened if anything had happened to you?" asked Hugo, his eyes boring into his daughter's.

"You would have continued to believe that you were Wendell and Monica Wilkins. You would never have remembered me." Hermione answered, the awfulness of the truth nearly overwhelming her.

"Don't you see how cruel, how devastating that would have been? To go through the rest of our lives without remembering you? I would take Voldemort and his Dark Eaters any day."

"Death Eaters, Dad," Hermione whispered.

They sat again in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Finally, just when Hermione began doubt whether they would ever be able to forgive her, Hugo stood and held out his arms to his daughter. Hermione jumped to her feet and threw herself into her father's arms, allowing herself to cry against his chest.

"I understand why you did it," he said gently against her hair. "I just wish…well, it's gone and done now, isn't it?"

Hermione only nodded, reveling in the security being so near her dad brought.

"Let's just put this aside for now. From what you've told us, we're very fortunate indeed, to have you here safe and sound."

"Do you forgive me?" Hermione didn't care that she sounded desperate; she had to know.

"Of course, bear," Hugo said, resting his cheek against the top of her head. "But Hermione?"

"Hmm?"

"No more bewitching us and moving us abroad without our permission. Deal?"

"Deal." Hermione laughed.

She felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to face her mother who embraced her and kissed her gently on the forehead.

"We'll have to talk about this more later. There's still a lot that we need to know."

"I'll tell you everything," Hermione promised.

"Alright," Jane sighed, wiping a final tear from her eye. "Then lets have a cup of tea and figure out how soon we can get home."


	6. Chapter 6

6

Badge of Honor

Ginny looked into her mirror and touched her face. When she was younger she had hated her freckles. She had spent the summer before her third year begging her mother to allow her to magically banish them. Molly had, of course, refused, and had threatened Ginny with everything in her considerable arsenal, should Ginny be tempted to do it behind her back. Ginny had been more than disappointed. She had wanted a complexion akin to the witches she saw in Witch Weekly. They never had a healthy smattering of freckles across their entire face, and they almost never had red hair.

All her life, that had also been the first thing people recognized about her.

"Ah, red hair and freckles," they would say. "You must be a Weasley."

Hogwarts had been no different. Ginny still remembered how Professor Binns had stared at her, completely taken aback.

"Red hair and those freckles? But you must be a Weasely." He had said. Ginny had confirmed it with a simple nod of her head. "Good Lord, are you really? Well you are the first Weasley girl I've seen in all my considerable years here."

She had resented it a little. She had resented being immediately identifiable in a room full of people who got to be nameless and faceless. She longed to be seen as more than red hair and freckles. She wondered if she would ever be known as more than "the Weasley girl," or kid sister to the Weasley boys. How desperately she had wanted to banish her freckles.

Things had changed.

Ginny smiled at herself, holding her head a little higher. She turned her face this way and that, studying her profile from all angles.

She had inherited her mother's delicate bone structure, as well as her brown eyes. From her father she had taken her chin and her skinny legs. She had been told by her Great Auntie Muriel that she had her grandmother's nose. She didn't think that Auntie Muriel meant it as a compliment, but Ginny took it as one nonetheless.

Some of the boys were on the shorter side with a stocky build, and the others were like Ron and her father: tall and gangly. Some of them had long noses, and the rest, like Ginny, had inherited their Grandmother's nose.

Ginny brought a finger to the bridge of her nose and began to lightly trace her freckles. It was one of the only things they all shared. Short or tall, stocky or willowy, every Weasley had red hair and freckles, and for the first time in her life, Ginny saw the real beauty in it. What she had previously borne with a tad of resentment, she now wore as a badge of honor. Her family was good, and loving, and strong, and she was exceedingly proud that she could be immediately identified as belonging to their ranks.

"Ginny?" she was stunned out of her reverie by her mother pushing through her bedroom door. "Ron and Harry are waiting for you."

"Mum," Ginny said, jumping up and embracing her mother. She had been doing that a lot lately, but she didn't think her mum minded.

"Are you alright, dear?" Molly asked, surveying her youngest with a worried expression.

"Yes," Ginny assured her, mustering her brightest smile. "Just happy to see you is all."

"You're sweet," said Molly, and Ginny noticed that deep circles still swelled beneath her eyes. "You'd better move it, though. You know how strict St. Mungo's is about visiting hours."

Ginny gave her mother one last hug and then bolted down the stairs, nearly running over Ron at the bottom.

"It's about bloody time," he said as he steadied her with one hand. "Harry and I were about to shove off without you."

"I wasn't," Harry assured her with a small smile.

"Well how's that for loyalty?" Ron demanded, glaring at Harry as he took Ginny's hand.

"I'm a Gryffindor, mate, not a Hufflepuff."

"Yeah, yeah," Ron said, taking the small pot of floo powder off the mantle. "I'll go first, shall I?" Without waiting for an answer, Ron threw a pinch of the powder into the fireplace and, after shouting "St. Mungo's", disappeared in the emerald flames.

Ginny followed Ron, and found herself in the sterile lobby of St. Mungo's, her head still whirling from her unpleasant journey.

"You're…you're Ron Weasley!" Ginny heard a female voice shrill from behind her. She turned to see Ron standing in front of the Welcome Witch, who was staring at him in wonder.

"Yeah?" said Ron nonplussed.

"You helped to bring down He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named!" She said as if Ron did not know.

"Yeah, I helped," said Ron, his ears beginning to turn red. "But loads of people did."

"Oh, attractive _and _modest," the Welcome Witch said, a flirty smile lighting her face.

"What a tart," Ginny hissed as Harry appeared behind her. "Excuse me," she said, shouldering past Ron. "We're here to see Dean Thomas, and Lavender Brown."

The Welcome Witch looked at Ginny appraisingly before she caught sight of Harry over her shoulder.

"Oh, my-" Ginny caught sight of where the Welcome Witches' eyes had traveled.

"Yes, yes! He's Ron Weasley, that's Harry Potter, and _I'm_ in a hurry. Dean Thomas and Lavender Brown? Please?"

Without another word the Welcome Witch consulted her clipboard, flipping through the pages with more gusto than necessary.

"Magical Trauma, floor 3," she said shortly, without so much as a glance at Ginny. "Is there anything else I can help you boys with?" The Welcome Witch asked, leaning dramatically over her desk and flashing them both a suggestive smile.

"They're fine, thank you!" Ginny snapped, clamping a hand around both boys' arms. "Let's go," she hissed.

"Blimey," Ron said when they reached the third floor. "Was she…?"

"Being a complete twit? Yes," said Ginny ferociously, leading the way down the hall. "This is it."

Dean Thomas was stretched in a bed, thick white bandages over his eyes. His mother sat at his beside, knitting quietly.

"Hello," said Ginny, smiling at his mother and then at Dean.

"Ginny?" Dean asked, sitting up.

"Hello," Dean's mother said standing. "I'm Jessica Thomas, Dean's mother."

"It's so nice to meet you," said Ginny, taking her hand gently. "I'm Ginny Weasley, and this is my brother Ron and my boyfriend Harry."

"Of course," Mrs. Thomas said kindly. "I've heard of you all."

"Harry? Ron?" said Dean.

"Hi Dean," said Harry, his stomach clenching at the sight of him in a hospital bed.

"Hey Dean," Ron greeted. "I don't think he can see, Harry," He added, leaning close to Harry.

"No Weasley, but I can still hear," said Dean with a smile.

"What have they told you Dean?" Ginny asked, taking the other bedside chair.

" Well," Dean said with a forced lightness. "It could be worse, really. They say I will get partial vision back in one eye. There's nothing they can do for the other. The damage was too extensive."

"I'm sorry," Ginny said softly.

"Thanks Gin, but like I said; it could be worse."

After nearly an hour of visiting with Dean, Ginny, Harry, and Ron said their goodbyes, preparing to visit Lavender.

"Seamus should be there," said Dean as they stood to leave. "He's been running back and forth between us. Try and convince his stubborn arse to go home and have a kip."

* * *

Just as Dean predicted, Seamus was sitting at Lavender's beside. Unlike Dean, Lavender was sound asleep.

"Well she looks good," Ginny said, noting that Lavender only had a few minor scratches on her face and arms.

"It's her legs that took most of the damage," Seamus said, dragging a hand across his face.

"Shhh!" Ron said, glancing warily at Lavender. "We, ah, don't want to wake her, do we?"

"So, how is she anyway?" Harry asked quietly.

"They say she's going to take a while to heal, and her legs are going to be scarred something awful, but she should be fine."

"That's good," Ginny said, sagging against Harry.

"Yeah but this time is the worst," Seamus said, waving a hand at Lavender.

"What? When she's sleeping?" Ginny asked, her voice almost a whisper.

"Aye," Seamus nodded. "She has nightmares. Horrible nightmares. She starts thrashing around and moaning."

"She and everyone else," Harry said, mostly to himself.

"That's true," Ginny nodded, remembering that she herself had woken in a cold sweat that morning.

"How are you doing, mate?" Ron asked, studying Seamus' face closely.

"I'm completely knackered," he laughed a little deliriously. "But you can tell Dean that I'll be going home when I'm good and ready to."

* * *

"Do you want to pop over to Diagon Alley for lunch?" Ginny asked some time later, when they had made their way out to Muggle London.

"You guys go ahead," said Ron, scratching his arm where a deep scratch was healing over. "I want to get home to see if Hermione's sent Pig with a reply."

When they arrived at the Leaky Cauldron, hand in hand, Ginny was nearly starved.

"Do you mind if we go somewhere other than here?" Harry asked Ginny as they pushed their way through a crowd.

Ginny led the way, Harry's head down so low it nearly rested on her shoulder.

"Sure," she said, gripping his hand firmly.

Suddenly someone called, "To "Arry Potter! He finished 'E-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named once and for all!"

"To Harry Potter!" The rest of the pub called back joyously.

"You round, Barney," someone called, as another wizard swaying ominously, held up a glass of amber liquid.

"To Ron Weasel…Weasley and Hermione Granger!" he called. "To the Golden Trio!"

"The Golden Trio," everyone echoed.

"You're even more famous than before," smiled Ginny as she and Harry finally made it out of the crowded pub.

After several minutes of navigating the cobblestone streets of Diagon Alley, they found themselves standing in front of a small café. Ginny watched as Harry's eyes glided over the hand-painted sign.

"The Ambling Rider?" he asked.

"They've got wonderful Shepard's Pie," she explained. "And even better Fish and Chips."

"You've been here before, then?" Harry asked, holding the door for Ginny.

"Oh yes," she said, sliding into a cozy booth. "Mum and I would have lunch here often when it was just her and I at home, after Ron started at Hogwarts. I think it was her way of cheering me up. I was miserable half the time that I was on my own."

"I can see that," said Harry, smiling across the table at her.

"What do you mean?" Ginny demanded good-naturedly.

"Well," Harry said slowly, the color rising in his face. "You're like gravity. People are drawn to you…they want to be near you. I can't imagine you being happy on your own."

Ginny could not contain the smile that lit her face, and a part of her was seized by guilt. Harry must have read it on her face because her took her hand from across the table.

"What is it, Gin?" he asked.

"It's just that…a part of me feels guilty for being happy." Ginny bit down on her lip, willing herself not to cry. "How can I be happy so soon after…everything?"

Harry brought Ginny's hand to his lips, kissing her palm.

"I know how you feel," he said gently. "I feel so relieved that everything is over, and then I'm revolted with myself for feeling relieved."

"I guess we can just be guilty and revolting together," laughed Ginny, before slapping a hand over her mouth, covering her smile.

* * *

Ron stretched out on his bed, his letter from Hermione clutched in his hand. He brought the envelope to his nose, inhaling slightly. He wondered if it was just his imagination that was allowing him to smell the sweet honeysuckle of her hair.

Dear Ron,

I've got my mum and dad back! It was horrid going over the details, but everything is fine now. My parents and I will be heading back straightaway. We're taking an aeroplane, and will be arriving in London on Monday at 6 am. I spoke with Kingsley and he said that a memorial service will be held at Hogwarts that same day. My mum and dad will be coming. After all that's happened, they want to be involved as much as possible.

How are you? How is Harry? How's everyone? I've been going a bit spare without you guys.

I miss you, Ron.

Yours,

Hermione

Ron re-read the last six words, contentment settling over him like a warm blanket. When Hermione returned from Australia, he knew he would have to summon his Gryffindor courage. He had to know once and for all that she _truly_ was his.

* * *

Ginny padded down to the kitchen, yawning widely. Having Harry to herself for a few hours the day before had been divine. She hoped they would be able to repeat the experience frequently.

As she walked into the kitchen, everyone fell silent.

"What?" Ginny demanded, looking from face to face.

From behind his back Arthur produced a rumpled newspaper.

"You've made the prophet," he said, holding it out to her.

Ginny took the paper and shook out the creases. Above a picture of Harry bringing Ginny's palm to his lips was a bold headline that read: HERO IN LOVE. How Ginevra Weasley Stole the Heart of the Boy Who Lived.

"Catchy," she said, tossing the paper aside.

"Honestly," grumbled Mrs. Weasley. "With all that's happened, this is what they write about?"

"I'm sorry," said Harry weakly from his place at the table. "I didn't even think about the paper."

"Well I'm not sorry," Ginny said fiercely. "Who cares if they write about us?"

"Just be prepared, pumpkin," Arthur said gently. "The Prophet isn't exactly known for getting their facts straight. Who knows what they might report next."

"Who reads that old rag, anyway?" Percy demanded. Since the final battle, he had not returned to his flat. "Everyone knows The Quibbler is where the real news is."

At that moment, several owls of varying colors and sizes swooped through the open kitchen window, each dropping a letter in front of Harry. As Harry reached for them, several more owls flew through, adding to the pile in front of Harry.

"What are these?" Ginny asked, picking up a letter and studying it.

"Feel free," Harry told her, ripping open a letter of his own.

"Dear Harry Potter," Ginny read aloud. "I am a fervent admirer and am so grateful for all you have done. I have blonde hair and am very shapely….it goes on like that," Ginny said, disgusted. She balled the letter and flung it into the fire.

"This one's the same," said George, looking more animated than he had since the night of Fred's funeral.

"This one too," said Harry, his face ablaze. "Look, we don't have to open any more," Harry said, gathering up the letters as Ginny wiggled one from the lot.

"Oh come on Harry," Ron grinned, making a grab for the letters as another owl flew through the window and landed in front of him, holding out his leg expectantly.

"There's your lot," said Harry to Ron, grinning.

"Harry!" Ginny cried.

"Gin, I don't want to hear from any other admirers!" said Harry firmly, feeling hot around the collar.

"No, Harry, this one's from the Ministry." She looked at him in awe. "You're being awarded the Order of Merlin…First Class."


	7. Chapter 7

Sorry this chapter has taken so long. Life has been crazy. Thank you once again for all of the encouraging comments!

* * *

7

A Living Memorial

Harry stared at Ginny, unable to comprehend what she had said. Surely she was mistaken. As if reading his thoughts, Ginny handed the letter to him, her eyes boring into his.

He quickly scanned the ornate purple letters, his stomach squirming uncomfortably. He had never considered that they might try to give him an award…or a medal. There had been no time to think any further than the next step to killing Voldemort, and when it was over, there had been the grief and loss to contend with. He had never once considered what winning a medal might mean.

He looked up under the weight of every eye in the room. "It's true."

Mrs. Weasley sank heavily into a chair as Mr. Weasley took off his glasses to polish them on his robes.

Suddenly the owl in front of Ron gave an indignant hoot, and nipped at his fingers impatiently.

"Ruddy…" he trailed off, noticing the letter being offered to him. Ron looked around nervously as he detached the small scroll and unrolled the thick, high quality parchment. As he read, his face slowly drained of color.

" Me as well," he said dully.

"Boys…" Mrs. Weasley swallowed hard, her eyes shinning with tears. "I'm so proud."

"It's bollocks," Ron's voice was deadly low. "Completely bloody stupid!" He balled the parchment in his hands and chucked it into the kitchen fire.

"Ron, what are you-?" Mrs. Weasley stood, holding out her hands as if to stop him.

"I won't accept," he said vehemently. "I won't."

"Me neither," Harry agreed, stepping up beside Ron. He felt the knot in his stomach loosen a little. He sought Ginny's eyes, and she met his gaze with an understanding nod.

"How can you not accept?" Mrs. Weasley asked faintly, watching as the fire consumed the last of Ron's letter.

Harry met Ron's eyes, and like so many other times in their friendship, they communicated without the need for words.

It was Harry who answered Mrs. Weasley.

"We, both of us…we didn't know what we were doing half the time, and the other half we were just trying not to botch it all up. We were able to do what we did with the help of all of you, and loads of others." Harry touched his scar self-consciously. "We walked away from the final battle…others…" He couldn't continue.

"Boys," Mr. Weasley looked grave. "This is not an honor that is bestowed lightly. They don't just hand these out."

"I won't take it," Ron said with a finality that allowed for no opposition. "My brother died. He _died_, and they want to give _me_ a medal?"

Harry stared at his friend for a moment, the enormity of how much he had changed crashing through him. As far as Harry knew, no Weasley had ever been awarded an Order of Merlin. It was exactly the kind of thing that Ron would have jumped at, even just a year ago: the chance to stand apart and shine. Now he stood in the kitchen of his childhood home, refusing the honor and a spot in magical history books everywhere. Though he knew he would never be able to voice it to him, Harry was quite proud of Ron.

"Refusing this won't bring Fred back," George spoke the words so softly, Harry wasn't sure if he had heard him correctly.

"No," Ron shook his head. "But I was there when it happened. I watched it happen…" Ron opened his mouth as if to say more, but his face looked suddenly haunted. "I won't take it."

Without another word, Ron turned and stomped out the door. Harry watched him go, something inside of him creeping up, dark and angry. There was something almost obscene about being offered this honor. So many people had been killed, and they had not. It made the guilt nearly palpable.

"I can't either," Harry said, looking George in the eye. "And not _just_ for Fred."

He too fled the overwhelming silence that suddenly filled the room. As Harry climbed the steps up to Ron's room, the sounds of war came rushing back to him.

The moment had been peaceful. Harry was still grinning on the inside for the sake of his friends. After years of outright avoiding their feelings, Ron and Hermione had finally acknowledged that they felt more than friendship for each other.

Percy and Fred had run out of nowhere, both laughing; exhilarated from the joy of reunion and the adrenaline of the battle. It had all made Harry momentarily happy. Plus, their path to Voldemort had been nearly clear, with only the snake left to destroy.

When the castle had shook with the Death Eater's explosion, Harry hadn't had time to think. After the dust began to settle, and Percy's agonized scream had rent the air, Harry experienced his worst moment of terror. Seeing Hermione and taking hold of her hand had lessened the torment, but only by half.

Harry still struggled with the guilt over what his initial reaction to Fred's death had been: utter relief. Relief that Ron and Hermione were still alive. Relief that he would not have to bury one of his best friends.

Sorrow had followed swiftly on its heels, however Harry could not deny what his gut reaction had been. Surely that did not warrant an Order of Merlin.

"Stop Harry."

Harry came to a halt just outside of Ron's room and leaned his head against the door. Ginny eased herself onto the tiny landing behind him, and he felt her arms snake around his middle.

"I can't accept it, Gin," Harry heard himself say, Fred's empty eyes still burning fresh in his mind.

"I know."

"I'm not trying to be modest."

"I know."

"You parents must think I'm ungrateful."

"No," Ginny's breath was warm on his neck. "They love you, Harry."

Harry said nothing. He turned so that he could see her face, only to find it inches from his own. He looked deeply into her warm brown eyes, and found there the understanding he had been seeking. Slowly, very slowly, she stood on tiptoe and brought her lips to his.

Harry felt as though he were burning from the inside out, but in a way that he loved. He tangled one hand into her coppery hair, which was hanging loose around her shoulders. With his free hand he felt behind him for the doorknob, and together they fell into Ron's room.

"Sorry," Ginny muttered softly with her lips still against his.

" 'S okay," Harry said from beneath her.

For a moment Harry knew they should stop. They were, after all, under her parent's roof and on Ron's bedroom floor. Then, Ginny's tongue pushed through his parted lips, and everything but her evaporated from his mind.

Harry was suddenly seized with the need to taste every inch of her. He pulled his mouth from hers and began to trail kisses from her earlobe, down her neck, and onto her freckled shoulders. Ginny gasped and gripped him tightly when Harry hit a sensitive spot on her collarbone. Her gasping breaths were like fuel to him, and he trailed a line of kisses across to her other shoulder.

"OI!"

Ginny rolled off of Harry with more speed than he knew she possessed, and turned to face Ron, whose face was thunderous.

"What in the bleeding hell do you two think you're getting up to in my bloody bedroom?"

He turned his fury on Harry, his entire face beet red.

"We've talked about this," he shouted. "You promised."

"Ron, I-"

"As if Ginny calling you her boyfriend wasn't bad enough?" Ron glared fiercely at Harry. "As if being in The Prophet weren't bad enough?! What exactly is going on between the two of you? Don't forget you ditched her once already!"

"Ron, I don't need you to-" Ginny began.

"What is going on here?" Harry suddenly wished himself a million miles away, as Mr. Weasley made his way into the now cramped room, his face furrowed with concern.

For a moment Harry, Ginny, and Ron all looked at each other somewhat sheepishly.

"Ron caught us snogging," Ginny admitted boldly, meeting her father's eye. Harry noticed that despite her defiant stance, a deep flush was stealing across her face.

"I see," Mr. Weasley said, looking from Ginny to Harry. Harry felt his heart drop. Any moment Mr. Weasley was going to boot him out for defiling his youngest and only daughter.

"And Ron…" Mr. Weasley left the statement open.

"Was angry, yeah." Ginny affirmed. "Harry and I were together at Hogwarts, Dad," Ginny explained calmly. From Mr. Weasley's reaction, Harry did not think this was news to him. "He broke it off with me after Dumbledore's funeral because of everything that was going on." She smiled at Harry proudly, before looking back to her father in a way the implored understanding. "He didn't want Voldemort to come after me to get at him, you see. He was trying to keep me safe."

Silence swallowed the room once again, as Mr. Weasley studied Ginny for a moment. Harry saw something like nostalgia cross his face before he turned to address Harry.

"Well Gin, I'm sorry to break it to you, dear, but it's never been a secret how you feel about Harry," Mr. Weasley smiled softly at his only daughter, before turning to Harry. "You have been much harder to read. So _do_ you fancy Ginny?"

"No, Mr. Weasley." Harry said, willing his voice not to crack. "I love her."

For a moment Harry feared that he had gone too far. Then Ginny took his hand and inched slightly closer. It gave him the courage he needed to steadily meet her father's searching gaze.

"Well," Mr. Weasley said finally, smiling softly. "I certainly wouldn't have approved of her being with anyone less worthy." He clapped Harry firmly on the shoulder. "Only, er, I think it best that you not be alone together in any bedrooms from here on out." Mr. Weasley's ears turned red, much like his son's, as he tried to look sternly from Harry to Ginny. After clearing his throat several times, and casting one last reminiscent smile at Ginny, Mr. Weasley departed.

After he had gone, Harry turned to Ron, hoping he would be as understanding.

"Look," Ron said, ignoring Ginny's impatient 'tut'. "Just…she's my sister."

Harry nodded, meeting Ron's gaze.

"And no more snogging in my room!"

The relief, Harry was sure, was evident on his face. He smiled awkwardly, and Ron returned it. He wondered how long it would be until he was officially part of the family. Harry was certain, at least on his end, that he would marry Ginny…in time.

Harry couldn't keep himself from sighing. For the first time in his life, years stretched before him free and unencumbered. Voldemort's shadow no longer obscured his path, and Harry reveled in the freedom.

They had time. Lots of time. He turned to Ginny and held his hand out to her. A long walk was definitely in order.

* * *

"Are you really that nervous?" Hugo Granger asked, as Hermione checked her watch once again. Hermione smiled at her father, still not quite able to accept that the war was truly over and that her parents had been restored to her.

"I'm just anxious to see everyone again," Hermione explained, her own Order of Merlin letter folded neatly in the pocket of her blouse.

Although Hermione had been stunned to receive the letter while waiting in a car park in Perth, the honor itself had not really been such a surprise to her. She had known all along that if they managed to actually destroy Voldemort, that an Order of Merlin would be just one of the honors offered them.

Hermione had to resist the urge not to pull out the letter and toss it into the nearest bin.

She had thought herself prepared for the hardships that fighting in a war would bring. She had known that there would be nightmares, and she knew that it would be a while before she would really be able to relax. What she had not expected was the guilt. The overwhelming guilt that so many had died, and she had lived.

Unbidden, an image of Fred popped into her mind, his face lit with its final smile, and his eyes open but unseeing. Hermione's own eyes filled with tears, and with a tremendous effort, she pushed thoughts of Fred away. She could never accept the Order of Merlin, and she knew that Harry and Ron would feel the same way.

"All right, Dearest?" Jane Granger asked, scrutinizing her daughter's face.

"Yes," Hermione said, forcing a smile. "Just…remembering."

Without a word, her mother took her hand, and Hermione leaned against her gratefully. For a moment she felt like a little girl again, and she wondered if her mother would always have the power to comfort her so.

"Hermione? Mr. and Mrs. Granger?" Ian and Patrick, their security detail, had returned carrying a thin, purple folder. "We've just received the paperwork approving you transportation by floo. Minister Shacklebolt himself signed off on it."

Hermione nodded gratefully. She and her parents would be flooing to Hogwarts for the Memorial Service and Dedication. Since the end of the war, the floo network had been shut down to prevent injured Death Eaters who were not in a state to apparate, from eluding the Ministry. So, anyone who wanted to floo had to submit a formal request to the Ministry and undergo intense scrutiny as to their identity. Hermione was extremely grateful to Kingsley for fast-tracking their paperwork.

"When can we leave?" Hermione asked, getting to her feet.

"Just as soon as you're ready." Ian held out the purple folder to her, and she took it, quickly glancing over the papers.

"I'll have to thank King-I mean Minister Shacklebolt. I'm sure it doesn't usually go that fast."

"No," Ian said, falling in step beside her as they all made their way to the fireplaces in the Atrium. "There's been a five day waiting period. The Department for Magical Transportation has been handling all of the requests, but Minister Shacklebolt said that anything the three of you, that is Potter, Weasley and you, needed, he wanted to handle personally."

Hermione blushed, feeling fussed over. "That's very kind of him," she said. "But it's really not necessary.

"You better get used to it Miss Granger," Ian said, flashing her his dimpled smile. "You are a hero, after all."

"I'm not," Hermione said, her smile once again forced. "Please…I'm not."

Ian studied her closely for a moment, before giving her an understanding nod.

"It's not difficult, Mum and Dad," said Hermione, when they arrived in front of the long row of fireplaces. "Just throw a pinch of the floo powder in, step into the flames, and say 'Hogwarts'."

"Step into the flames?" Mr. Granger looked dubious.

"Don't worry Hugo," Mrs. Granger assured. "Floo powder comes from the Flooberto Fern. It utilizes certain properties in fire, making it an agent of transportation. In the process it renders fire warm, rather than hot."

Hugo stared at his wife in open fascination as Hermione simply nodded and continued to flip through the purple folder.

"What?" Jane demanded, taking a pinch of floo from the bag Patrick offered her. "I read Flooing: The Ultimate Guide to Magical Transportation, Vol. 3."

"Of course you did," said Hugo, shaking his head.

"I'll go first, shall I?" Jane stepped up to the fire and tossed in her powder. When the flames turned emerald green she stepped into them. "Amazing! It's just like they described." She smiled at both Hugo and Hermione, her eyes alight, before yelling, "Hogwarts!"

After the uncomfortable whirling, Hermione stumbled out of the fireplace in the Headmaster's office, feeling quite dizzy.

"That was quite an experience," Jane said after Hermione arrived. She stood slumped against Hugo, her face a delicate shade of green.

"Miss Granger, how lovely to see you."

Hermione's head snapped up at the voice, and was filled with an unexplainable joy upon seeing the stern-faced professor.

"Professor McGonagall," Hermione said breathlessly. "It's wonderful to see _you_." She glanced around the Headmaster's office, which was pristine. "Is Hogwarts back in order, then?"

"Some parts are, yes. Other parts, such as the Enchanted Ceiling, are yet to be rebuilt. We have professional charmers coming in from Paris to assist Professor Flitwick with its reconstruction. We also have to re-draw the apparation line around the premises, as well as put all of the security enchantments back into place. It will all be done by September First, be assured."

"So…so Hogwarts will re-open for the next term?"

"Yes. As long as there are students who want to learn, Hogwarts will be open for them."

"About that, Professor, there is something I want to speak to you about. Ron, Harry, and I missed our Seventh year, as did so many others. Could we…that is, will we be allowed to return in September for our final year of study?"

"But of course," McGonagall said, looking somewhat surprised. "That option will be offered to all Seventh years who's education was disrupted last year. Surely you didn't think that we were going to punish you for not returning on the Hogwarts Express when there was a price on your head."

"A price on your head?" Hugo looked from McGonagall to Hermione.

"Indeed," McGonagall nodded. "A very high price. Mr. and Mrs. Granger, you must know, your daughter was instrumental in bringing down Voldemort and ending his reign of terror. You should be very proud."

"We are," Jane said, color beginning to return to her cheeks. She smiled wanly at Hermione. "But we still don't completely understand everything that happened,"

"Well walk with me," McGonagall said, leading the way to the door. "I will do my best to explain everything."

Hermione trailed behind, watching her parents exclaim over the wonders of the castle as McGonagall kept up a brisk commentary.

Finally, they made their way through the heavy front doors and onto the ground. People and magical creatures as far as the eye could see were milling around. Hermione found herself immediately surrounded by a hoard of camera toting witches and wizards, each aiming questions at her.

"Miss Granger, where did you, Harry Potter, and Ronald Weasley spend the last year?"

"Hermione? How do you feel about the romantic relationship between Harry Potter and Ginevra Weasley?"

"Miss Granger! Miss Granger! Witches everywhere want to know if the tattoo rumors regarding Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley are true? Where exactly is Ronald Weasley's pygmy puff tattoo?"

Hermione looked from face to face, completely stunned. She had not expected this. Lights flashed before her eyes, and great puffs of purple smoke clogged her nostrils.

"Oy! That's quite enough! You were invited here to cover the memorial, not harass its attendees!"

Hermione spun around and was greeted by the dimpled smile of Ian.

"Clear out or I will have you escorted out."

After many unhappy mutterings, the reporters and photographers dispersed. Hermione smiled at Ian gratefully.

"Thank you," she said. "I wasn't prepared for that."

"They weren't suppose to question you like that," said Ian, as they began pushing through the immense crowd. With every step she took, Hermione was greeted by someone new, everyone seemingly overjoyed to see her. Still, the one person she really longed to see was nowhere to be found.

"Are you looking for someone?" Ian asked, as her eyes scanned the crowd once again.

Hermione felt herself blush. "Yes, actually. I'm looking for Ron. Ron Weasley. And Harry. Or Ginny. _Any_ of them, really."

"Well," said Ian. "I'm not sure where Ronald Weasley is, but Harry Potter is over there."

Hermione followed Ian's finger to a secluded oak tree where Harry stood talking to Andromeda Tonks. Although she could not see her face clearly, Hermione was sure that Andromeda was crying. Harry held out his arms as Andromeda placed baby Teddy in them.

Hermione knew what must have been transpiring.

After the final battle, Andromeda had taken the bodies of her daughter and son-in-law, and had buried them quickly and privately. No one had been invited to the funeral. Not even Harry. Harry had been angry that he had not been given the chance to honor his mentor and his father's final best friend. Mr. Weasley had interceded on Andromeda's behalf.

"She's lost her husband, son-in-law, and only child all in one year, Harry." Mr. Weasley had said. "Perhaps she didn't want anyone to see her so…low. Allow her some privacy. She'll come around. You'll see."

It appeared that Mr. Weasley had been right. Harry stood looking down into the face of his godson, as Andromeda swiped at her cheeks. Hermione didn't want to interrupt the little gathering, so she turned and began to scan the crowd again. Ian seemed to understand, and he too began to scan the faces around them.

"Ah," he said after a moment. Hermione followed his gaze across the sea of people, and just made out a flash of red. A moment later Ron had pushed through the mass, and stood before Hermione breathing hard.

"Ron."

The moment his name left her lips, Ron launched himself at her. She felt his arms wrap around her tightly and pull her against his solid chest. He lifted her off her feet, and for a moment she caught the scent of his hair. It was what she had smelled in Professor Slughorn's Amortentia. It was fresh, masculine, and distinctly Ron.

"You home," he said as he still held her firmly against him.

"Yes," Hermione whispered, praying he wouldn't let go.

"Hmm." Hermione fell back to Earth at the sound of someone clearing their throat behind them.

"Oh," she said, pushing gently away from Ron. "Ron, this is Ian O'Leary. He was part of the team that escorted me to get my mum and dad."

"Right," Ron said, openly evaluating him. "Thanks for that."

"Look, Miss Granger-"

"Hermione, please." Hermione interrupted.

"Fine, Hermione. It was a pleasure, really." Hermione saw Ron narrow his eyes. "But as you're now home safe, I should go."

"Yeah, you probably should," Ron said loudly.

"Ron," Hermione hissed. "Thank you for everything, Ian."

"Sure Miss…I mean Hermione. If you need anything, anything at all, just let me know."

After Ian had gone, Hermione turned to Ron angrily.

"That was a whole new level of rude for you, and that's saying something!"

"He's smarmy," Ron said, his blue eyes narrowed. "He was supposed to be protecting you…not sizing you up!"

"Well he only came along because you insisted!"

"Look Hermione," Ron said, his cheeks stained red. "I don't want to row." He took her hand, and smiled shyly at her. Hermione felt her anger drain away as her heart began to pound in a completely different way.

"You don't?" She heard herself ask.

"No. I missed you. A lot."

"I missed you too, Ron."

Ron smiled and pulled Hermione into another hug, his hands stroking her long, frizzy plait.

"About bloody time."

Hermione and Ron broke apart abruptly, turning to face their smiling friend.

"Shut it, Harry." Ron said, although he was still smiling.

"We have to sit down," Harry explained, motioning to the many rows of chairs. "Ginny's holding seats for all of us. Your mum and dad too Hermione."

After they were seated, and the murmur of nearly one thousand voices had died down, Kingsley Shacklebolt took the podium.

"There were several speeches written for me, for this occasion. Each one beautifully detailed all that was won and lost in this terrible war." Kingsley's voice was as deep and reassuring as ever. "Still, none of them felt right. What can one say, after all, to truly capture the heroism involved in laying down your life in pursuit of justice? How does one perfectly word the depth of sacrifice made both by those who have gone on, and those left behind? No," Kingsley shook his head, and scanned the crowd. "Words cannot capture what transpired here three weeks ago. Instead, I ask you to look around you. Look into the faces of those you love, and perhaps those you merely tolerate. Look at the old, and take a moment to hold the youngest of all. You are the legacy of those who made the ultimate sacrifice. Honor and remember them. Remember that they are not here because of intolerance and hate, and honor them by standing against it wherever you should encounter it. Honor their sacrifice by moving on and living the lives that you and they fought for. If we all do that, than the Memory Wall we will dedicate tonight will be purely ceremonial. If we promise to always honor and remember their sacrifice, then _we_ will be their eulogy. _We_ will be their ultimate memorial."

Hermione wiped her eyes and glance sidelong at Ron. His jaw was clenched tightly, and his eyes shone feverishly bright. She squeezed his hand gently, and he seemed to immediately relax a little. A few tears slipped down his cheeks.

Professor McGonagall stepped up to the podium next, and after speaking briefly, a large, bright white wall was unveiled. It seemed to be made of the same marble as Dumbledore's coffin. The name of every person lost in the war was written upon it, including, as McGonagall had explained, those who had died during the first war.

After the wall was dedicated, the formal ceremony ended, and Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny, made their way over to the wall to read the names inscribed on it.

"Here's Lupin, Remus and Nymphadora," said Hermione.

"Tonks would have hated that," Ginny shook her head. "Here's Colin."

Harry ran his hand lightly along the wall, stopping abruptly when a name he never expected to see caught his eye.

"Dobby," he said breathlessly.

"Really?" Hermione crammed herself against Harry's shoulder, squinting at the wall. "Dobby, a free elf. Oh, that's wonderful."

"Yeah," Ron nodded. "It's only right."

"And here's Fred," Ginny said softly. Her fingers lightly traced the letters as she stared at them dry-eyed.

"Come on," Ron said. "Kingsley's right. Fred would want us to go out and have a laugh. After the last year, we could all use one."

"Well I'm pleased that you listened so well, Ron."

Kingsley Shacklebolt stood behind Ron, his baldhead reflecting the fairy lights that surrounded them.

"Kingsley!" Ginny cried. "I mean, Minster Shacklebolt."

"Hello Ginny, Ron, Harry, Hermione." He nodded at all of them in turn, his smile kind. "I need a word with all of you, if you don't mind." He glanced over his shoulder at the reporters who were lurking near by. "In private."

They followed Kingsley to the lake where Hermione cast Muffliato.

"The Ministry is doing quite a bit of investigating. We are trying to determine who was in Voldemort's ranks, who was there willingly, and who was enchanted. Harry, now that everything is over, I would like to know all you can tall me about exactly how Voldemort was defeated."

Hermione looked at Harry, who met her gaze before turning to Ron. After a brief moment, Harry turned to Kingsley and nodded. "Yeah, alright," he said. "I will tell you what I know. It all pretty much came out during the Final Battle anyway."

"Thank you," Kingsley nodded. "There's something else. We are investigating Dolores Umbridge, Fenrir Greyback, and Lucius and Draco Malfoy for crimes against humanity. We are need to know everything you can tell us about them."

"Done," Ron said, his face savage. "Both Malfoys were there when Hermione was being tortured and they dick to help her."

"Ron!" Hermione said, scandalized.

"Sorry," Ron said to Kingsley, although he didn't look it. "But it's true."

"Yeah, and Umbridge was writing all kinds of anti-muggleborn propaganda." Harry added.

"I would like you all to come down to the Ministry and give formal interviews to our aurors. When we've gathered enough evidence, they'll go to trial. We will need you to testify then. It will be a long, very detailed process. Do you think you will all be up for it?"

"Yes," Harry said immediately.

"I'm in," Ron nodded.

"Me as well," Hermione agreed. Her stomach twisted. She hadn't talked to anyone about what had happened at Malfoy Manor.

"Ginny? We'll need to know about what went on here at Hogwarts. Can I count on you as well?"

"Yes," Ginny nodded, her brown eyes sad but determined.

"Excellent," Kingsley said. "If you'll excuse me, I have to get back to work. There's…_a lot_ to do."

After Kingsley left, the trio and Ginny wandered back to the castle.

"McGonagall says that we can come and finish our Seventh year when the new term begins," Hermione said, suddenly remembering.

"Brilliant," Harry said, his face lighting up.

"Brilliant?" Ron asked skeptically.

"Oh come on, Ron," Ginny smiled. "A comfortable bed every night, delicious meals every day, Quidditch. What's not to look forward to?"

"I forgot about Quidditch," Ron said smiling. "I don't know how I feel about curfews though." He glanced at Hermione, and then looked away quickly as his ears turned red.

"After the past year, I can deal with a curfew," Harry smiled.

"Halloween," Hermione said, smiling. "Visits to Hagrid's."

"Endless hours in the library," Ron added, tickling her side.

"Maybe Kreacher will work here," Harry said. "He's been happy here since the Final Battle."

"It'll be perfect," Ginny nodded.

"Let's just hope the trials don't interrupt things too much," Harry added darkly.

"No," Ginny said firmly. "We're all going to have a perfect Seventh Year. Nothing will ruin it."

Hermione hoped she was right.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Sorry, I'm having some problems putting in page breaks. As always, I appreciate all reviews!

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**8**

**Official**

Being in the Ministry again was hell. Ron's eyes continually flicked back to the door as if to assure himself that he did, in fact, have an escape route. He hated being so paranoid, but memories of his last trip to the Ministry kept washing over him, making it impossible to feel at ease. He didn't realize that he had been bouncing his leg until Hermione rested a calm hand on it. He smiled sheepishly at her, the intimacy of the contact not lost on him.

"Weird being back, huh?" He asked her, his voice low. It felt natural to whisper.

"It's awful," Hermione whispered back, following his lead.

"I keep expecting Death Eaters to bust in," Harry added, his eyes also trained on the door. For a moment they sat in a tense silence, each straining to hear any sign that danger might be coming.

"We've got to stop this!" cried Hermione suddenly. "The war is over and we won. We're safe. We can't keep living like this. Remember what Kingsley said? We have to live our lives."

"You're right," Harry agreed, and he too spoke normally. "We can't keep walking on tip-toe. It's a new Ministry isn't it? I mean we're here to help build a case against Umbridge."

"Yeah and that horrible statue is gone."

It had been the first thing Ron had noticed upon arriving at the Ministry. The terrible statue of the wizard and witch, sitting atop thrones made of muggle bodies had been removed. Large, ugly black scorch marks remained where it had stood, and nothing yet had taken its place. Ron hoped they didn't bring back the "Statue of Magical Brethren."

"I hope they don't bring back the old one," Harry said, voicing Ron's thoughts.

"As a matter of fact, some are in favor of a statue of the three of you."

"Ian!" Hermione gasped, as he pushed through the door.

"Hello Hermione, Mr. Weasley, Mr. Potter." He smiled warmly at all of them, but Ron thought that he lingered on Hermione a bit longer than need be.

"You're not serious?" Harry demanded of Ian.

"I am. There are quite a few people who think it would be a fitting tribute. Minister Shacklebolt, however, is quite sure that you wouldn't approve."

"Well he's right then, isn't he?" Harry's green eyes were troubled. "I wouldn't like it at all."

"Well with the Minister against it, I don't think we will be seeing a 'Golden Trio' statue anytime soon, rest assured." Ian held out his hand to Harry. "I'm Ian O'Riley, by the way. I will be interviewing the three of you today regarding what you personally witnessed of Dolores Umbridge during the last year."

"We have information that goes back further than a year," Harry said, shaking Ian's hand.

"Yeah, she was at Hogwarts our fifth year, and she wasn't a treat than either," said Ron. "Was ready to use an Unforgiveable on Harry."

"Really?" Ian asked as he took the only remaining chair and flipped open a purple envelope he had been carrying. "Which one?"

"Crucio." Harry unconsciously rubbed the back of his hand where the words _'I must not tell lies' _was still faintly visible.

"Did she actually perform it though?" Ian asked, pulling thin, wire-rim glasses from the front pocket of his robes and balancing them on his nose.

"No, Hermione distracted her. It was brilliant really." Harry gave Hermione an admiring smile. "She always gets us out of tight spots."

"Ah," Ian also smiled at Hermione, and Ron had to fight the urge not to wave a hand in front of his face. There was just something about the guy that he didn't trust.

"I'm not surprised. However, if she didn't actually perform the curse, then we can't take that into account. Pity. That alone would have been enough to put the old toad away for life."

"She's vile," Hermione said, her face pale.

"Yes she is," Ian agreed. "However we can't send people to Azkaban because they're vile. That is why the three of you are here. We are going to need every piece of information, every recollection, no matter how mundane it may seem."

"Where do we begin?" Harry asked. Ron noticed that he was rubbing the back of his scarred hand, seemingly unaware.

"Well you said that you thought she was on the verge of using an Unforgivable? Let's begin with your fifth year then. Give me every detail you can remember. We are going to have to give the Wizengamot an idea of the kind of person she is. It's not conclusive evidence, but it will help to show her in her true colors."

Six hours later, Ron trudged in between Harry and Hermione, completely exhausted. They had told, and retold their experiences with Umbridge from fifth year to present. They had then written separate accounts of their memories, and had then been interviewed separately regarding some of the more specific details. All Ron wanted now was a hot shower and a hot meal.

"I hope Mum's made something good," he said, licking his lips in anticipation. "I'm starved."

"We ate three hours ago," Hermione laughed. Ron noticed her face was pale. Reliving their escape from the Ministry had been rough on all of them.

"Yeah well, answering so many questions worked up my appetite." Ron gripped his stomach dramatically. "Will you be coming round for dinner?"

Hermione bit her lip and shook her head. "Mum and Dad are taking me out tonight. They want to celebrate their return to England."

"Oh." Ron tried not to let his disappointment show too clearly. Plans of taking a moonlit stroll with Hermione to a lonely corner of the Burrow's Quidditch paddock, evaporating into thin air. He didn't understand why everything had to be so bloody difficult when it came to Hermione. He had made an arse out of himself for the past seven years, hadn't he? He had kissed her back during the final battle, hadn't he? Why did everything have to be said? Why couldn't some things be understood, and left unspoken?

"Ron? Ron!" Her voice broke through his reverie.

"Sorry," he said, wondering how long he had been staring off into space. "What?"

"I was saying that you, Harry, and I have an appointment with Kingsley tomorrow to discuss the Order of Merlins. After that I will go back to the Burrow with you for dinner. "

"Right. Fine. Tomorrow." Once again, visions of proclaiming his love to a moon-drenched Hermione blossomed in his mind. He wondered what it would be like to pin her against a tree and kiss her until the sun rose.

"Ron? Ron!" This time it was Harry's voice that broke through his daydream.

"Whaaa?" He asked dazed.

"Hermione's leaving, you great prat!"

Ron turned to Hermione and found her studying him with a puzzled expression on her face.

"See you tomorrow, then." He held out his arms to her, and she was just stepping into them when-

"Hermione!" Ian called, jogging over to them. "I'm glad I caught you. May I have a word?"

Hermione looked at Ron for a fraction of a moment before nodding and retreating a distance away with Ian. They spoke in low murmurs, and when they returned she was a little pink in the face, and refused to meet either Harry or Ron's eye.

"Well, I really must be on my way," she said, her voice a little shrill. "I would hate to make us miss our reservations."

"Hermione…?" Ron wanted to demand to know what she and Ian had talked about, but held himself in check. Just barely.

"We'll talk tomorrow," Hermione said hurriedly. "I'll see you both here at 11 am sharp."

"What in the bloody hell was that about?" Ron raged, as soon as Hermione disapparated. "What in the hell did that smarmy bastard want?"

"Don't know," said Harry, a little too calmly for Ron's liking. "It probably had something to do with the case."

"Like hell it did," Ron said, giving a passing wizard a dirty look. "If it were, he would have just said it in front of us. I never liked that git."

"Calm down," Harry said, shaking his head. "Hermione's mad for you. Plus, you guys are together now, right? I mean, you've made it nice and official, haven't you?"

"Er." Ron was feeling like a bigger arse by the moment.

"Ron? You told her how you feel, didn't you?" Harry eyed Ron critically.

"The Three Broomsticks."

Ron hadn't planned to go to Hogsmeade, but as soon as his feet hit the floor he felt better about the decision. He couldn't go home and pretend that everything was normal. Not when George was silent and his mother walked around as though in a trance. Not when Hermione wasn't there to make it all less painful. Besides, he found that he suddenly needed a drink.

"Firewhiskey, please." Ron took one of the only empty seats at the bar, feeling every eye in the place on his back.

"Make that two." Harry slapped ten galleons onto the counter from behind Ron. The wizard who occupied the stool to the left of him jumped up, and twisting his hat in his hand, gestured Harry into it.

"Please, Mr. Potter," he said. "Take my seat. And yours and Mr. Weasley's drinks are on me."

"Thanks," said Harry, taking the seat. "But we'll pay for our own drinks."

"Really," the older wizard insisted as Madam Rosmerta clunked two small glasses of the amber liquid onto the bar. "It would be an honor to buy you a drink."

"Cheers," Ron said, tipping the drink down his throat. He didn't feel like hearing Harry argue with the man. He had no problem accepting a free drink.

"Er, thank you," Harry conceded. He also downed his drink in one gulp. "So, do you want to tell me what's going on?"

"Oh you know," said Ron, motioning Rosmerta for another round. "The usual. I'm a complete git. I'm a spineless coward. I'm not worthy of being a Gryffindor."

"So, you still haven't told her?"

"Why does everything have to be said?" Ron threw another drink back. "We never had to declare that we're friends, so why do we have to declare that we're more?"

"I don't know," Harry said, taking his second drink much the way Ron had. "Maybe so other blokes like, I don't know, Ian, know that you're together."

"Insufferable arse," Ron growled. "Can we just have the bottle?"

"Take it slow, love." Rosmerta warned as she set the bottle on the bar.

"Look Ron," Harry began, pouring out two more glasses. "I don't know why everything has to be said, but it just does. If you don't want to lose Hermione once and for all, you'd better screw up your courage and tell her how you feel. Don't think about it, just do it."

"What if she doesn't feel the same?" The question had been haunting Ron since he had discovered his own feelings for her ran much deeper than friendship.

"You're barking," Harry shook his head. "Hermione loves you Ron. I told you, after you left, she didn't stop crying for weeks."

"Yeah?" Ron sipped at his drink, his vision blurring slightly.

"Yes. Besides, why else would she have been so upset about Lavender? She didn't give Merlin's left nut when Cho and I were together."

"That's true."

"You just have to tell her, mate. The sooner you get it over with, the faster you guys can move on." Ron watched as Harry threw back another drink and swayed slightly in his seat. "Besides, if you wait much longer, Ian's likely to do what you won't. If not him, than some other bloke."

"No." Ron jumped to his feet and immediately felt the alcohol rush to his head. He gripped the bar firmly, desperately trying to gather his wits. "I'm going to go tell her now. I can't wait until tomorrow."

"Wait." Ron felt Harry's hand fall on his shoulder as he turned to leave. "I need to say something to you."

Ron turned back to Harry and found his green eyes bloodshot but somber.

"Remember when you told me that Ginny was you sister?" Harry asked. Ron nodded, not understanding what Harry was getting at. "Well Hermione is my sister. I love her the way you love Ginny. Just…please remember that mate."

Through a thick haze of amber alcohol, understanding came to Ron. Harry was asking Ron to be careful. Fair enough. The three of them had always protected each other…even _from _each other.

"Alright, Harry." Ron said, meeting Harry's gaze. "I get it."

"Well then get your arse to Hermione!"

"Right." Ron closed his eyes, and was just about to turn on the spot when-

"Hold it!" Madam Rosmerta charged around from the bar. "You can't disapparate in that condition, boy! Do you want to get splinched?!"

Ron met Harry's eye and both boys burst into laughter. No, he didn't want to get splinched. After a series of twirls and jabs from Rosmerta's wand, Ron began to feel sense return to him.

"Better?" Rosmerta asked.

"Yeah, loads."

"Good luck, mate," Harry called. Ron nodded, nerves sizzling to life in his stomach. He once again closed his eyes, turned on the spot, and felt his body magically compress.

When Ron first opened his eyes he thought he must have apparated into the family's library. The entire wall immediately in front of him was covered with books. He turned his head and realized that he hadn't apparated into the library after all. A white four-poster bed was angled in a corner, covered in a feminine yellow quilt. Pictures of himself, Harry, and Hermione together dominated the white, antique dresser. Ron moved closer for a better look and couldn't help but smile. There was picture of himself and Harry in their Quidditch robes from sixth year. Their picture selves kept throwing their heads back in laughter, and Ron stared at it trying to recall the joke. There was a picture of the three of them from fourth year, just after the second task. They were all soaked through and shivering, but smiling from the thrill of Harry's performance. There was even a picture of Hermione and Ginny from the Quidditch World Cup. Both she and Ginny looked sweetly young.

Feeling as though he were being given a special insight into Hermione's mind, Ron turned next to her bedside table. There, lovingly framed, stood her first Hogwarts letter. Next to it was yet another small photo of himself, Harry, and Hermione taken their First Year. Harry stood in the middle, his face still pale from his end-of-term stay in the hospital wing. Hermione beamed, her two front teeth dominating her smile, making her look like an eager little beaver. He studied the smattering of freckles she had across the bridge of her nose, and how her brown eyes sparkled so brightly. She had sure been a cute little thing. He wondered how his eleven year old self had failed to notice. Then again, he had been daft about a lot of things.

He sat down on Hermione's bed and wondered how long muggles took to eat dinner. It had already been nearly four hours. He leaned back on her pillows and noticed that a small desk stood sentry under a large window, directly across from her bed. He could imagine her over summer holidays, penning letters to himself and Harry, and studiously going over textbooks far too advanced for their year.

As he settled more comfortably on her bed, allowing his eyes to take in the unexpected femininity of her bedroom, he noticed for the first time the color of her walls. He sat up so quickly he knocked several pillows to the floor, but paid them no heed. He was torn between a desire to laugh and a reflex to cringe. Hermione's room was painted a very soft, very muted, _lavender_.

"Lovely choice, Hermione," he said to himself, retrieving the pillows. He settled on her bed once more, thinking that he would rest his eyes for just a moment.

An ear-piercing scream rent the air two hours later, and before he was ever fully awake he was on his feet, wand drawn.

"RONALD WEASLEY! DO NOT EVER SCARE ME LIKE THAT AGAIN!"

Hermione stood before him, her face pale and her eyes wild. She clutched her heart, and her breath seemed to be coming in little gasps.

"Hermione," Ron said, lowering his wand. "You scared me."

"I…what? I? Scare _you_?"

Ron had to resist the urge to groan. Hermione-so-angry-she-was-incapable-of-coherent-speech was never a good thing.

"I'm sorry," he said quickly. "I know I scared you."

"Yes," she said, seeming to immediately calm down a little. "You did. What's going on? Are you all right? Is Harry ok?"

"Everyone's fine," Ron assured her, wondering how to begin now that she was here.

"Hermione?" A deep voice called from a floor below. "All right?"

"Fine, Dad," she called back in a voice of forced-calm. "A spider scared me, but I'm fine now." She turned to Ron, her eyes narrowed. "What do you think you're doing turning up in my room, in the middle of the night, so soon after the war? I could have killed you."

"I-hold on." Ron drew his wand once more and cast muffliato on the room. "I just had to talk to you."

"Ok? About what?" Hermione seemed suddenly nervous. As if desperate for something to do, she kicked off the sleek, black high heels she had been wearing, and carried them to her closet where she put them neatly away.

"Can't you sit down?" Ron asked. He noticed for the first time that she wore a pretty black dress. Although it was modest, Ron couldn't help but appreciate the way it hugged her thin frame.

"Ok? What's up?"

"Well, Harry and I were having a drink down at the pub, when it came up that I never…never really got a chance to tell you…well…after our kiss…"

"Oh." Hermione bit her lip and looked at Ron nervously. He had been hoping that she would step in, but when she continued to stare at him he realized that she was, in fact, going to make him spell it out.

"Look, Hermione, I think you're really special."

There. That should do it.

"I think you're special too, Ron," she said with just a hint of disappointment. "You're my best friend."

"No, that's not what I meant." Ron ran a hand through his hair and frantically tried to conjure up his daydream. In his daydream he had declared his love romantically. He had been suave and sweet, and she had been like warm taffy in his hands. "Look, do you fancy Ian or what?"

Whoa. Where had that come from?

"What?" Hermione demanded. "What does Ian have to do with anything?"

"Well, the two of you seemed awfully cozy today." Ron's mind was screaming at him to shut up, and yet his mouth seemed to be working on its own.

"Is that why you're here? To find out what's going on between Ian and I? Go home, Ron. I don't have time for this."

"So you do fancy him, then?"

"Whether I fancy him or not is none of your business," Hermione all but screamed.

"It is my business," Ron bit, matching her octave. "You just said I'm your best friend."

"Harry is my best friend also, and I don't see him here trying to find out if I'm interested in Ian. Honestly, why do you care?"

She turned away from him then, but Ron didn't miss that her brown eyes had filled with tears.

"Just go home, Ron. I can't be near you right now."

"I don't want to go home," he said more gently. "I just want to know if you fancy him or not. I need to know."

"You are going to drive me mad!" Hermione screamed, losing what little control she had been holding onto. "You've had nearly eight years! Eight long years! Why do you care now who I fancy?! Why, after eight years, does it matter to you? WHY?!"

"BECAUSE I BLOODY LOVE YOU," Ron bellowed.

Hermione froze, her tear-stained face slack. Without rational thought, Ron covered the distance between them in two long strides and crushed Hermione against him, covering her lips with his own.

For a moment Hermione stood rigid against him, her arms pinned flat against her sides. Then, with a content little sigh, she pulled her arms free and wrapped them around Ron's neck.

Bloody brilliant. That was the only way to describe kissing Hermione. Ron held Hermione firmly by the small of her back as his other hand bunched into her mane of wild curls. Everything about her made him wonder how a girl so tough and strong could be so soft.

After much too short a time for Ron's liking, Hermione pulled back slightly.

"Ron?" Her eyes were still wet with tears, and he instinctively used his thumb to wipe them from her cheeks. "I love you too."

"So…you and me?"

"Yeah," Hermione smiled. "You and me."

Ron blew out a loud breath and collapsed back onto Hermione's bed. "Damn that was scary," he laughed. "I was pretty sure that you felt the same way, but I've been wrong about other things, haven't I? Then the whole thing with Ian and-"

"Ron," Hermione whispered, holding a finger against his lips. "Shut up."

Smiling shyly she wrapped her arms around his neck once again and kissed him chastely on the lips. Ron knew he was grinning like an idiot, but didn't care. Hermione was one of two people who knew him better than anyone, and she still wanted to be with him in this way.

Ron leaned his forehead against Hermione's and breathed her in. She smelled like a mixture of fresh laundry and something sweet…like a vanilla biscuit. He kissed her nose lightly, and watched her eyes crinkle as she smiled. He ran his hands lightly up her arms until they rested on her shoulders. Wondering momentarily if he had permission, he leaned in once again for a kiss.

Ron's eyes fluttered closed. Hermione's mouth was like a whole different world. He opened her mouth with his own, and had to work hard not to groan when Hermione flicked her tongue across his bottom lip.

Feeling as though his body had thrown his mind overboard, he gently pushed her back on the bed, kissing her eyelids, cheeks, and jaw as he hovered above her. He found himself noticing things about her that he never had before: the length of her eyelashes, the natural berry color of her full lips, and the small triangle three freckles formed on her left shoulder. He also noticed things below her face, where her body pushed back against her clothes and the way her curves fit against him so perfectly. To keep his hands from wandering he knotted them once again in her wild mane of hair.

"Ron?" Hermione's eyes were wide and uncertain, and Ron realized with a jolt that when pulled her closer she had felt just how excited he really was.

"I'm sorry," he groaned, his face burning hot. "I didn't…I don't…"

"It's alright," Hermione assured him as she took his hand. "But we should probably slow down."

Ron sat up and rubbed the back of his neck. Hermione had always had the ability to make him lose his head. Now that they had finally made things official he knew that he would have to walk a very fine line.

"Er, Hermione?" Ron's blood began to pound through his veins again. Sometime during their snog her dress had ridden up considerably. It thrilled him to no end that studious, sensible Hermione wore black, lacey knickers. With an intense effort, he wrenched his eyes away. "Your dress."

"Oh!" Hermione's face flushed scarlet as she promptly straightened her dress. "Sorry."

"I'm not," said Ron, grinning.

"You're terrible," laughed Hermione.

"You like me terrible."

They lapsed into a comfortable silence as Hermione stood and began to turn down her bed. There was something that was still bothering Ron that he wanted to ask about, but he didn't want to start another row.

"What is it, Ron?" Hermione asked, concern etched on her face.

_Damn. Why did she have to know him so well?_

"Don't get angry," he began. "I was just still wondering what you and Ian talked about."

"Honestly," Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Oh, come one Hermione!" Ron winced internally. Why did he have to sound so whinny? "If it had been me and some girl whispering, you'd want to know what we were talking about!"

Her face softened.

"You can't get angry either," she warned. "We still have to work with Ian."

"Ok?" Ron already knew he wasn't going to like what she told him.

"Well, he asked me to dinner. He said he needed me to clarify a few things from my testimony."

"Clarify some things? Don't make me laugh!"

"Well that's what he said," said Hermione primly as she crossed her arms.

"And what did you tell him?" Ron couldn't explain why his heart was suddenly pounding. To his astonishment, Hermione flushed an even deeper red, and didn't seem to be able to meet his eye.

"Hermione?"

"I told him that I had a boyfriend," she finally admitted.

"Oh?" Ron couldn't keep the smile off his face. "Who did you say was your boyfriend?"

"Well I didn't!" Hermione all but stomped her foot. "I was hoping you would come around before I had to make someone up."

"Suddenly I can't wait for tomorrow," said Ron, pulling Hermione to him by her waist.

"Why?" She asked, looking up at him from under long lashes.

"I can't wait to walk into the Ministry holding your hand."

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Ron fell backwards onto his bed, a smile still plastered on his face. He could still feel the movement of Hermione's lips and the warmth of her body against his. It was hard to believe that after so many years of dreaming of snogging her, he was finally allowed to.

But it was more than that. He had loved Hermione in secret for years. Or maybe not so secret. It seemed that everyone knew how he felt. He couldn't believe that Hermione now knew as well. And he had been the one to tell her. He hadn't been as debonair as he had envisioned, but then again, that wasn't really his style. He supposed that was alright. After all, Hermione loved him just the way he was.

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Hermione wasn't sure what had woken her. She squinted into the darkness, as her ears strained to pick up any sound in the silence. After a moment she relaxed back into her pillows. It was probably just Crookshanks skulking about.

Her mind immediately wandered to Ron and she couldn't help but smile in the darkness. He loved her. What had always been unspoken had _finally_ been made official.

She giggled a little. The way he told her had been so typical. Although it had been nothing like she imagined, she wouldn't change it for anything. He had been brutish and blunt, and so perfectly Ron.

She touched her lips softly and closed her eyes. She could still imagine the way he had pulled her to him, and kissed her with such determination. She also remembered how distraught he had become upon seeing her knickers. It made her slightly heady with power.

Still smiling, she closed her eyes once again. She was confident that if she could get to sleep her dreams would be lovely. Suddenly, an ironclad hand clamped over her mouth with such roughness that she tasted blood.

"Obscuro!" A voice rasped in the darkness. Hermione's face was immediately blindfolded. "I can trade you," the voice said almost manically. "They will give me my freedom in exchange for you, and if they don't, at least I get to enjoy one last treat."

As he spoke, Hermione was overwhelmed with the smell of sweat, dirt, and blood.


End file.
